


Welcome to Night Vale au- Sanders Sides

by SanderRohde



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Welcome to Night Vale Setting, Inspired by Welcome to Night Vale, M/M, Makes sense in context, Morally Neutral everyone, Multi, Paranoia is not Virgil, Romulus Sanders has a different name, Spoilers for new video may exist, all hail the glow cloud, but also is Virgil at the same time, no dogs in the dog park, no people in the dog park
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23979457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanderRohde/pseuds/SanderRohde
Summary: A frankly nerve wracking desert community where the sun is hot, too hot at times, the moon is beautiful, which probably means something is going to happen,and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep. Me especially. I never can get to sleep in the first place. Why, oh why was I born here? Well, I would never truly leave it behind. It is my home, after all. Anyways,Welcome to Night Vale. Hello, listeners.
Relationships: (past), Analogical - Relationship, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Everyone, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, I realized I forgot to add the / relationship tag for the main pairing, Jon Cozart & Everyone, Patton/Remy, Roceit, Roman/unnamed spouse (mentioned), here it comes - Relationship, it’s over with now, so here goes - Relationship, there - Relationship
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	1. Pilot

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mr. Sanders' Neighborhood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17500907) by [Amazable01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amazable01/pseuds/Amazable01), [TheObsessor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheObsessor/pseuds/TheObsessor). 



> WTNV is awesome! So is Sanders Sides! And I like writing fanfics for both!

A frankly nerve wracking desert community where the sun is hot, too hot at times, the moon is beautiful, which probably means something is going to happen,and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep. Me especially. I never can get to sleep in the first place. Why, oh why was I born here? Well, I would never truly leave it behind. It is my home, after all. Anyways, 

Welcome to Night Vale. Hello, listeners.

To start things off, I’ve been asked to read this brief notice:

The City Council announces the opening of a new Dog Park at the corner of Sanders and Broadway, near the Ralph’s. Please, anyone who might want to go here to pet the cute dogs, don’t. They would like to remind everyone that dogs are not allowed in the Dog Park. People are not allowed in the Dog Park.

It is possible you will see Hooded Figures in the Dog Park.

Do not approach them. Do not approach the Dog Park.Just don’t. 

The fence is electrified and highly dangerous. Try not to look at the Dog Park, and especially do not look for any period of time at the Hooded Figures. The Dog Park will not harm you. Not that I believe that, but Station Management, or whoever wanted me to read this wanted you to know. 

And now, the news.

Mr.Thomas, out near the Car Lot, says the Angels revealed themselves to him. Said they were ten feet tall, radiant, and they were all different, but looked like he had known them at some point. Said they helped him with various household chores. One of them changed a light bulb for him – the porch light. He’s offering to sell the old light bulb, which has been touched by an Angel.They even watched some Steven Universe together. If you want the old lightbulb, if you’re interested, contact Thomas. He’s out near the Car Lot.

A new man came into town today. Who is he? What does he want from us? Why his perfect and beautiful haircut? Why his perfect and beautiful coat? He says he is a scientist. Well…we have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives. But why now? Why here? And just what does he plan to do with all those breakers and humming electrical instruments in that lab he’s renting – the one next to Big Rico’s Pizza? I am genuinely worried and intrigued at the same time. I wonder if he’s actually going to stick around. Because if he does, I’d definitely want to know him better. 

No one does a slice like Big Rico. No one. Not necessarily good or bad. Just… unique. 

Just a reminder to all the parents out there: let’s talk about safety when taking your children out to play in the scrublands and the sand wastes. You shouldn’t, I’ve been there, but if you do happen to do so… you need to give them plenty of water, make sure there’s a shade tree in the area, and keep an eye on the helicopter colors.

Are the unmarked helicopters circling the area black? Probably World Government. Not a good area for play that day. Or any other day. But I digress. 

Are they blue? That’s the Sheriff’s Secret Police. They’ll keep a good eye on your kids, and hardly ever take one. Don’t rely on this, though. Many a kid I knew disappeared. For various reasons, but that was definitely one of them. 

Are they painted with complex murals depicting birds of prey diving? No one knows what those helicopters are, or what they want. Do not play in the area. Run. Please. It is in your best interest to return to your home and lock the doors until a Sheriff’s Secret Policeman leaves a carnation on your porch to indicate that the danger has passed. Cover your ears to blot out the screams. There will be screams, trust me. 

Also remember: Gatorade is basically soda, so give your kids plain old water and maybe some orange slices when they play. If you want them to die quicker, that is. I’d advise keeping a keen eye on them, as orange is known to be a terrible color around here. I know that from experience. 

A commercial airliner flying through local airspace disappeared today, only to reappear in the Night Vale Elementary classroom 101 during Math Practice, disrupting quite badly. The jet roared through the small gym for only a fraction of a second. And before it could strike any players or structure-thank you. Deaths and injuries are already too much here-, it vanished again. This time, apparently, for good.

There is no word yet on if or how this will affect Night Vale Mountain Lions’ annual Math Contest that isn’t about Math at all, and also if this could perhaps be the work of their bitter rivals the Desert Bluffs Cacti. 

Desert Bluffs is always trying to show us up through fancier uniforms, better concessions, and possibly by transporting a commercial jet into our gymnasium, putting everyone at risk. 

I hate you even more if you did this, Desert Bluffs. I hate you for putting those kids at risk. 

That new scientist – we now know is named Logan– called a town meeting. He has a square jaw, and teeth like a military cemetery. His hair is perfect, and we all hate, and despair, and love that perfect hair in equal measure.

Mr. Thomas brought jam which was decent, but lacked a jar. He said the Angels had taken her all his jars for a Godly mission (probably canning), and he hadn’t yet gotten around to buying more. But hey, at least they were getting use out of them, right? 

Logan told us that we are by far the most scientifically interesting community in the U.S., and he had come to study just what is going on around here. He grinned, then made a brief inquisitive look towards me, and everything about him was perfect, and I fell in love instantly.

Government agents from a vague yet menacing agency were in the back, watching. I fear for Logan. I fear for Night Vale. I fear for anyone caught between what they know and what they don’t yet know that they don’t know. It’s a lot to take in, Night Vale is. Especially for newcomers like him. 

We received a press release this morning. The Night Vale Business Association is proud to announce the opening of the brand new Night Vale Harbor and Waterfront Recreation Area. I have been to these facilities myself recently on their invitation, and I can tell you that it is absolutely top of the line and actually pretty nice.Huh. 

Sturdy docking areas made from eco-friendly post-consumer material, which was nice of them, a boardwalk for pedestrians,also nice, and plenty of stands ready for local food vendors and merchants to turn into a bustling public marketplace. Rumor has it, a booth has already moved in. A ready to make meal service I am sure several people will want to get subscriptions to. 

Now, there is some concern about the fact that, given we are in the middle of a desert, there is no actual water at the waterfront. And that is a definite drawback, I agree. Although,deep water in Night Vale is even worse because you don’t know why it even exists. 

For instance, the boardwalk is currently overlooking sagebrush and rocks. The Business Association did not provide any specific remedies for this problem, but they assured me that the new harbor would be a big boost to Night Vale nonetheless. Like they do every time they make a new landmark. 

Maybe wait until a flash flood and head down there for the full waterfront experience. I would beware, though, of what exactly is at the bottom of the ocean. 

The local Trust League is selling bumper stickers as part of their fundraising week. They sent the station one to get some publicity. And we’re here to serve the community, so I’m happy to let you all know about it. The stickers are made from good, sturdy vinyl, and they read:

Lies don’t kill people.  
It’s impossible to be killed by a lie.  
We are all invincible to lying and it’s a miracle.

Stand outside of your front door and shout “Trust!” to order one. C’mon. Do it. See if you die. 

Logan and his team of scientists warn that one of the houses in the new development of Desert Creek, out back of the elementary school, doesn’t actually exist.

“It seems like it exists,” explained Logan and his perfect hair. “ It’s just... right there when you look at it. And it’s between two other identical houses, so it would make more sense for it to be right there. But it isn’t.”

But, he says, they have done experiments and the house is definitely not there.He still doesn’t understand why it isn’t there. At news time, the scientists are standing in a group on the sidewalk in front of the nonexistent house, daring each other to go knock on the door, Logan tugging each of them back every time they try to approach it.

A great howling was heard from the Night Vale Post Office yesterday. Postal workers claim no knowledge, although passers-by describe the sound as being a little like a human soul being destroyed through black magic. I wouldn’t be surprised at this point. 

Toby, you know the man who thinks he is the physical manifestation of a month,appeared on the scene, and swore that he would discover the truth. I know I don’t really trust him, so I will be doing my own truth seeking, which includes asking Logan about his progress.

Lights. Seen in the sky above the Olive Garden. Not the glowing sign of Olive Garden. Something higher, and beyond that. We know the difference. We’ve caught on to their game. We understand the “lights above Olive Garden’s” game.

Invaders from another world.

Ladies and gentlemen, the future is here, and it’s about 100 feet above the Olive Garden.Just don’t stare at them too long. 

Logan and his scientists at the monitoring station near Route 800 say their seismic monitors have been indicating wild seismic shifts – meaning to say that the ground should be going up and down all over the place. I don’t know about you folks, but the ground has been as still as the crust of a tiny globe rocketing through an endless void could be. (Which means Logan is right. I’m just used to it.) 

Logan says that they’ve double-checked the monitors and they are in perfect working order. To put it plainly, there appears to be catastrophic earthquakes happening right here in Night Vale that absolutely no one can feel. I am not surprised at this point. 

Well, submit an insurance claim anyway. See what you can get, right?

Traffic time, listeners.

Now, police are issuing warnings about ghost cars out on the highways, those cars only visible in the distance reaching unimaginable speeds leaving destinations unknown for destinations more unknown. They would like to remind you that you should not set your speed by these apparitions, and doing so will not be considered “following the flow of traffic.” 

However, they do say that it’s probably safe to match speed with the mysterious lights in the sky, as whatever entities or organizations responsible appear to be cautious and reasonable drivers. I say put your common sense to work, and do what you want to do here. 

And now, the weather.

[Thomas Sanders theme]

Welcome back, listeners.

The sun didn’t set at the correct time today, Logan and his team of scientists report. They’re quite certain about it. They checked multiple clocks and the sun definitely set ten minutes later than it was supposed to. Good for me. I always need more sleep. 

I asked them if they had any explanations but they did not offer anything concrete. Mostly they sat in a circle around a desk clock, staring at it, murmuring, and cooing. Hmm. 

Still, we must be grateful to have the sun at all. It’s easy to forget in this hot, hot, hot desert climate, but things would actually be slightly harder for us without the sun. Vitamin D, people! 

The next time the sun rises, whatever time that turns out to be, take a moment to feel grateful that the sun even exists. I will be inside. 

The City Council would like to remind you about the tiered Heavens, and the hierarchy of Angels. The reminder is that you should not know anything about this.

The structure of Heaven and the organizational chart are privileged information, known only to the City Council members on a need-to-know basis. Please do not speak to or acknowledge any Angels that you may come across while shopping at the Ralph’s or at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. They should not be called Angels, instead, Thomas’ friends

Report all Angel sightings to the City Council. They will do what they will do, and I won’t be liable for anything that happens, once there. 

And now a brief public service announcement.

Alligators: can they kill your children?

Yes.

Along those lines, to get personal for a moment, I think the worst way to die would be swallowed by a giant snake. Going feet-first and whole into a slimy maw would give your life perfect symmetry. But also reminds me a bit too much of someone I haven’t seen in too long. 

Speaking of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, its owner,George Salazar, reports that he has found the entrance to a vast underground city in the pin retrieval area of Lane 5. He said he has not yet ventured into it; merely peered down at its strange spires and broad avenues.

He also reports voices of a distant crowd in the depths of that subterranean metropolis. Apparently the entrance was discovered when a bowling ball accidentally rolled into it, clattering down to the city below with sounds that echoed for miles across the impossibly huge cavern.

So, you know, whatever population that city has,probably as weird as ours, they know about us now, and we might be hearing from them very soon. I pray not. 

Logan, perfect and beautiful, came into our studios during the break earlier but declined to stay for an interview. He had some sort of blinking box in his hand covered with wires and tubes. Said he was testing the place for “sides.”

I don’t know what sides he meant but that box sure whistled and beeped a lot. When he put it close to the microphone it sounded all chirpy. Really went crazy.It was so loud I had to sit down a second. 

Logan looked nervous. I’ve never seen that kind of look on someone with that strong of a jaw. He left in a hurry. Told us to evacuate the building. But then, who would be here to talk to all of you out there? And how would Station Management react? 

Settling in to be another clear night and pretty evening here in Night Vale. I hope all of you out there have someone to sleep through it with. Or, at least, good memories of when you did.It’s nice to have some nice memories to hold on to. 

Goodnight, listeners. Goodnight.

Today’s proverb: I’m doing fine, how about you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Thomas Sanders, Joan Stokes, Audiam, Foti, Joseph Fink, Jeffrey Kramor, Disparition, Cecil Baldwin, and associates.


	2. DJ’s Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, DJ likes s’mores, and the aftermath of the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter, as it was scratching too much at my mind not to. Hopefully it isn’t too bad, seeing as I wrote this in 5 minutes at 10 minutes after midnight. But boy do I relate so hard to DJ right now.

“Stop that right now. I want a photo!” 

DJ Harland had had quite a few of these. In fact, his parents, being the 50’s types they were, seemed to encourage it, as long as they got to see every moment of his miserable little Night Valean life. 

He never did show his parents everything, as he was insecure. His parents sure tried, however. 

Ever since grade school years, DJ tried everything, and finally settled on Boy Scouts, where he worked his way up, though certainly not all the way up the ranks. There were few people who did work their way all the way up.

Oh, he tried. His parents did, too. Millions of dollars wasted. Not really wasted, but certainly could be spent on something better to better the community, rather than bribing DJ’s Scout Leader to Eternal Scout status, which he never did achieve, by the way. 

That’s where he met his only friend, later his only true fling, Virgilius Gershwin Palmer. He was the only one who truly knew this full name, same as Virgil was the only one to know his full name. His full name, Deceit Janus Harland, was too prim for his tastes, and he had rather good taste buds, so he had a feeling his tastes were better than average. 

He got the feeling that Virgil hadn’t left Scouts on good terms with him, but he had forgotten why that was. It must’ve been a painful argument, then. A stupid one. And now, DJ would stay in Scouts to honor this weird relationship he, his parents and his ex wanted to maintain.

There was some sort of talk about destiny, which he really only agreed halfway with.

So, the one time he left the customary radio on, this one in baby-blue Bakelite, it was quite a shock to hear Virgil’s voice again. 

He sighs, and turns towards his scout group (he was now Scout Leader) to give them further instructions on what was to be done in order to earn their next badges. Two boys in particular were dangerously close to achieving Eternal Scout status, but dangerously close might not even happen, and if it did, would probably happen in 2 or 3 years. 

Scouts was one of the only good things his parents helped encourage his getting into. And it was at least one version of fate which led to him gaining a puzzle piece in the picture of why Virgil had to leave. Along with the painful breakup, or course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to my first true fic (which I haven’t finished yet, and should really get to satisfyingly concluding) where I had to stop writing it for a while in order to go to Camp Granite Lake, where the counselors are the only ones allowed to have technology beyond flashlights and cameras. Good times. In honor of my first fic, I dedicate today’s good weather (and eventual rain) to Charli XCX.


	3. The Glow Cloud (all hail)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil will learn to praise the Glow Cloud. Everyone will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Here’s a new chapter! Also, if you do happen to catch what I like calling King Creativity/Passion, make sure to tell me, as I thought I was being clever putting it in where it is. I’ve watched all Sanders Sides so far, and am up to 55 right now on Night Vale, so Easter Eggs are par for the course, although I did try to make them spoiler friendly, ie, you can read this without having to have watched Sanders Sides or listened to Night Vale.

The desert seems vast, even endless, and yet scientists tell us that somewhere, even now, there is snow.

Welcome to Night Vale.

The Night Vale Tourism Board's “Visit-able Night Vale” campaign has kicked off with posters encouraging folks to take their family on a scenery-filled jaunt through the trails of Radon Canyon. I know it’s a very bad idea, but if the tourists are dumb enough to do it, I have a job (and Station Management) that takes most of my time. 

Their slogan? “The view is literally breathtaking.”

Posters will be placed at police stations and frozen yogurt shops in nearby towns, along with promotional giveaways of plastic sheeting and re-breathers. Oh? Well, that is good news. Anyone who is in those places needs a Night Vale as much as Night Vale needs them. 

And now, the news.

Have any of our listeners seen the glowing cloud that has been moving in from the west? Well, Butch Hartman– you know, the animator? – he saw it over the western ridge this morning. Said he would have thought it was the setting sun if it wasn't for the time of day. Which he probably didn’t know. Nobody’s circadian rhythm is proper, here in Night Vale.

Apparently the cloud glows in a variety of colors, perhaps changing from observer to observer, although all report a low whistling when it draws near.

One death has already been attributed to the Glow Cloud. But listen, it's probably nothing. Is what I say to appease the masses. It’s something, alright. If I know us, we’ll have probably welcomed it by the end of the day as a Night Vale citizen. Just watch. 

That's what the Sheriff's Secret Police are saying, and I don’t agree. Also, they say you should run directly at the cloud, shrieking and waving your arms, just to see what it does. That is dumb, and you should definitely not do that. 

Toby– and I remind you that this is that white guy who thinks he’s a month– has announced that he has found some disturbing evidence concerning the recent incident at the Night Vale Post Office, which has been sealed by the City Council since the great screaming that was heard from it a few weeks ago. There’s probably something in there, but will I check? Probably not. There is always screaming coming from The Night Vale Post Office. I have just learned to get used to it. Night Vale is home, after all. 

He said that using ancient Halloween intuitions, he slipped through council security into the post office, and observed that all the letters and packages had been thrown about as in a whirlwind. That there was the heavy stench of scorched flesh. That the words written in blood on the wall said, “More to come, and soon.” Soon. That scares me. 

Can you believe this guy said he used ancient Halloween intuitions? What an asshole! But thank you for telling me. 

Here's something odd. There is a cat hovering in the men's bathroom at the radio station here. He seems perfectly happy and healthy, but it's floating about four feet off the ground next to the sink. Doesn't seem to be able to move from its current hover-spot. If you pet him, he purrs, and he'll rub on your body like a normal cat if you get close enough. I don’t trust him enough right now for that, but he looks enough like a cat I shouldn’t worry too much. Fortunately, because he's right by the sink, it was pretty easy to leave some water and food where he could get it, and it's nice to have a station pet. Wish it wasn't trapped in a hovering prison in the men's bathroom (tell me about it), but listen: no pet is perfect. It becomes perfect when you learn to accept it for what it is. I should know. I had to be accepted for what I was. 

And now, a message from our sponsors.

I took a walk on the cool sand dunes, brittle grass overgrown, and above me in the night sky, above me I saw.

Bitter taste of unripe peaches and a smell I could not place nor could I escape. I remembered other times that I could not escape. I remembered other smells.

The moon slunk like a wounded animal. The world spun like it had lost control. Concentrate only on breathing, and let go of ideas you had about nutrition and alarm clocks.

I took a walk on the cool sand dunes, brittle grass overgrown, and above me in the night sky, above me I saw.

This message was brought to you by Coca Cola.

The City Council, in cooperation with government agents from a vague yet menacing agency, is asking all citizens to stop by the Night Vale Elementary School gymnasium tonight at 7:00 for a brief questionnaire about mysterious sights that definitely no one saw and strange thoughts that in no way occurred to anyone. I am already forgetting them, so I guess it’d be good to not dodge it much longer. Because all of us are ‘normal,’ and to be otherwise would make us outcasts from our own community. Fancy saying that to me! Sheesh. 

Remember: if you see something, say nothing and drink to forget. Drink of choice, a nice Cabernet, although recently I have been enjoying Margaritas. Wait, what was I talking about? Oh, right. 

The Boy Scouts of Night Vale have announced some slight changes to their hierarchy, which will now be the following: Cub Scout, Boy Scout, Eagle Scout, Blood Pact Scout, Weird Scout, Dreadnought Scout, Dark Scout, Fear Scout, and finally, Eternal Scout. I know I recall it being quite similar to this already when I was a Boy Scout, but what do I know? 

As always, sign-up is automatic and random, so please keep an eye out for the scarlet envelope that will let you know your son has been chosen for the process. And please never tell your son that it wasn’t your idea. 

This is probably nothing you or I can deal with, listeners, but Butch Hartman– you know, the animator– he reports that the Glow Cloud is directly over Old Town Night Vale, and appears to be raining small creatures upon the earth. Armadillos, lizards, a few crows – the poor crows-that kind of thing.

Fortunately, the animals appear to be dead already, so the Night Vale Animal Control Department has said that it should be a snap to clean those up. They just have to be tossed on the Eternal Animal Pyre in Mission Grove Park, so, if that's the worst the Glow Cloud has for us, I say go ahead and do your daily errands. Just do them inside, please. 

More on the Glow Cloud as it continues to crawl across our sky.

And hey, here's a tip: carefully look out the window, tell your kids to look at the Glow Cloud carefully through a thick layer of glass, and use the Cloud's constantly mutating hue to teach him or her the names of colors. It's a good, relatively safe way to distract… I mean pass the time. My bad. 

Alert: the Sheriff's Secret Police are searching for a fugitive named Remus Duke, who escaped custody last night following a 9 PM arrest. Duke is described as a five-headed dragon, approximately 18 feet tall, with mostly green eyes and weighing about 3600 pounds. He is suspected of insurance fraud. Trust me, if you’ve heard of it, he’s probably done it. 

Duke was pulled over for speeding last night, and the Secret Police became suspicious when he allegedly gave the officers a fake driver's license for a five foot eight man named Pasha Prince. After discerning that Pasha Prince was actually a five-headed dragon from somewhere other than our little world, the Secret Police searched Duke’s vehicle. I, for one wonder what was in there, but I would rather not know, I think. Although I definitely would.

Representatives from local civil rights organizations have protested that officers had no legal grounds to search the vehicle, but they ceded the point when reminded by Secret Police officials that our backwards court system will uphold any old authoritarian rule made up on the fly by unsupervised gun-carrying thugs of a shadow government. The thought makes me want to get someone actually competent to make proper laws around this. Although I still want to see what was in that car. Just, it probably has pictures of me in it. Cute, nice pictures, but they have to do with my past, which I want to know as much as possible about. I have a feeling I knew him. 

The Secret Police say Duke escaped custody by breathing fire from his purple head, and he was last seen flying and shrieking over Red Mesa. Sounds just like him (smiles). 

Secret Police are asking for tips leading to the arrest of Remus Duke. They remind you that, if seen, he should not be approached, as he is literally a five headed dragon. Contact the Sheriff's Secret Police if you have any information. Ask for Officer Ben Platt.

Helpful tipsters will earn one stamp on their Alert Citizen card. Collect five stamps, and you get stop sign immunity for one year. Use it wisely. There are already too many reckless drivers. 

And now, a look at the community calendar.

Saturday, the public library will be unknowable. Make sure to collect your books- and fight your librarians- before then. Citizens will forget the existence of the library from 6 AM Saturday morning until 11 PM that night. The library will be under a sort of renovation. It is not important what kind of renovation.

Sunday is Dot Day! Remember, red dots on what you love, blue dots on what you don't. Mixing those up can cause permanent consequences. I remember the last dot day. Last dot day was traumatic. 

Monday, Mr. Pierce is offering bluegrass lessons in the back of Pierce’s Music Shop. Of course, the shop burned down years ago, and Mr. Pierce skipped town immediately after with his insurance money (he wasn’t meant to be here anyway) but he's sent word that you should bring your instrument to the crumbled ashy shell of where his shop once was, and pretend that he is there in the darkness teaching you. The price is $50 per lesson, payable in advance.

Tuesday afternoon, join the Night Vale PTA for a bake sale to support Citizens for a Blood Space War. Proceeds will go to support neutron bomb development and deployment to our outer solar system allies. I actually have an interest in attending it this year, so I might see you there. 

Wednesday has been canceled due to a scheduling error.

And on Thursday is a free concert. And… that's all it says here.

New call in from Butch Hartman– you know, the animator? Seems the Glow Cloud has doubled in size, enveloping all of Night Vale in its weird light and humming song. Says he might write the Glow Cloud in as a Danny Phantom villain, whatever that means. 

Little League administration has announced that they will be going ahead with the game, although there will be an awning built over the field due to the increase in size of the animal corpses being dropped. Bring an umbrella anyway, and wear suits, as in Hazmat Variety. I've had multiple reports that a lion, like the kind you would see on the sun-baked plains of Africa, or a pee-stained enclosure at a local zoo, fell on top of the White Sand Ice Cream Shop. The Shop is offering a free dipped cone to anyone who can figure out how to get the thing off. Too bad. I actually really enjoyed their black cherry. 

The Sheriff's Secret Police have apparently taken to shouting questions at the Glow Cloud, trying to ascertain what exactly it wants. So far, the Glow Cloud has not answered. So they want to know why the hornet’s nest is buzzing? Be my guest. Please. 

The Glow Cloud does not need to converse with us. It does not feel as we tiny humans feel. It has no need for thoughts or feelings of love. I feel jealous of it for this. I have a feeling Logan does, as well. 

The Glow Cloud simply is.

All hail the mighty Glow Cloud

All hail

And now, slaves of the Cloud, the Weather.

[Don’t Make Me]

Sorry, listeners. Not sure what happened in that earlier section of the broadcast – as in, I actually don't remember what happened. Tried to play back the tapes, but they're all blank, and smell faintly of vanilla. Not that I smelled them, or anything. It’s unsafe to smell something if you don’t know exactly why it is that way, and you don’t have the proper protective equipment. 

The Glow Cloud, meanwhile, has moved on. It is now just a glowing spot in the distance, humming east to destinations unknown. We may never fully understand, or understand at all, what it was and why it dumped a lot of dead animals on our community.

But, and I'm going to get a little personal here, that's the essence of life, isn't it?

Sometimes you go through things that seem huge at the time, like a mysterious glowing cloud devouring your entire community. While they're happening they feel like the only thing that matters, (deep breathing) and you can hardly imagine that there's a world out there that might have anything else going on. And then the Glow Cloud moves on. And you move on. And the event is behind you. And you may find that, as time passes, you remember it less and less. Or absolutely not at all, in my case Whatever. I am sure it’ll come up again. 

And you are left with nothing but a powerful wonder at the fleeting nature of even the most important things in life – and the faint, but ominous, smell of vanilla.

Dear listeners, here is a list of things.

Emotions you don't understand upon viewing a sunset  
Lost pets, found (don’t breathe in the fur)   
Lost pets, unfound  
A secret lost pet city on the moon  
Trees that see  
Restaurants that hear (talking to you, Olive Garden)   
A void that thinks (More common than ever this fiscal year)  
A face half-seen just before falling asleep, keeping you up even longer.   
Trembling hands reaching for desperately needed items, such as medication.   
Sandwiches  
Silence when there should be noise. Wait, where?   
Noise when there should be silence. What was that?   
Nothing when you want something. I got everything I needed, what is it I need?   
Something when you thought there was nothing. Scary.   
Clear plastic binder sheets  
Scented dryer sheets  
Rain coming down in sheets  
Night  
Rest  
Sleep, precious little.   
End  
Goodnight, listeners. Goodnight.

Today's proverb: Guys are from Mars, gals are from Venus, Enby Pals are from *distorted screeching*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be another one like chapter two, so be ready for that. 
> 
> Weather- as mentioned- Don’t Make Me


	4. Para and Lils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Para is a happy kid. His smile always seemed off, though...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter. I had an idea and I will stick with it, lol! Hope you enjoy! This one actually might have spoilers, but so did the chapter introducing DJ, and you read that. I am introducing a few of these kinds of people early, so...

Para was a nice kid when he was younger. He always looked out for his fellow man, and smiled all the way when he was doing so. Life is fleeting, but fun, and one should never consider wasting it. 

When Para met Lils, he was 15. Lils was 21. They weren’t, and had never been dating. Lils had had an interest in radio, and so had Para, so they got along quite well nerding out about it. Lils would handle the more corporate side of things (he was always good at that) while Para would do the narration. So Para missed the first random drawing for Boy Scouts. As a result, he never met Dori. 

His mom had caught him and Lils with a knife trying to do blood brothers rituals. She said she was sorry she interrupted, and went about her day finding new curtains to match the occasion. 

Para practiced smiling in the mirror every evening, at late hours of the night. It always looked weird. 

From his 4th floor window of apartment 4271, Para could see the bustling streets below. Lils had gone home for the night, and he could still hear the calming sounds of cars and gentrification. He lived in a fast-growing city, after all. Strexcorp had seen to that. He smiled again, this time with no qualms about how weird it looked. It felt good to him. 

The tv sparked, staticked, and a warning message went off: it was the peace maintenance alarm, and Para knew this meant to go to the nearest sofa and sit completely still until the threat was far away. Far far away from the small but bustling community. Smiling God, yes! This was a community, all right. He couldn’t wait to share the experience with Lils later, maybe much later. Lils had gotten a job. He had said it would take up most of his time. 

Para also had a full time job in Radio waiting for him. The previous radio personality mysteriously disappeared, maybe on accident. But they still had hope. 

“I’m a trainwreck, but I am also the engineer! ‘Believe, and you will get things done!’ “ Para looked to the mirror again quietly, and his storm cloud, his ethics, prevented him from getting up off the couch. He looked to his dark eyes, and all the eyes where eyes should not be were on his face. 

“You always lift my spirits, myself. I sure feel awesome! 

Para got his first proper taste of radio, and never would look back. 

“Hello, welcome to your first day. Sure it can be a bit nerve wracking, but bury that for now. You must be so excited! Strexcorp believes in your full potential! Isn’t that nice? I thought it was cool, too! Wait a minute, am I supposed to have opinions? Scratch that last part, then. Either way, welcome new employees to the Desert Bluffs Radio station! You’ll have a great time!”

Para and Lils were dropped off at their offices. They must’ve been looking specifically for people to fill those roles. Lucky break! 

As Para bought some nice furniture for his room, and Lils bought a notepad to fill with various notes on various topics, usually planning in a code not even the Smiling God would recognize, they thought about how they had gotten to be where they were, and smiled and laughed about it quite perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently putting together a fic Discord, if that interests any of you. I just have to add (and nickname) the bots, and create an image for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Weather is the TS intro.  
> Other song choice: anything Thomas Sanders related. Probably Crofters the Musical related as well.


End file.
